The Battle Is Won
by TimeToWriteIsHistory
Summary: Based on CP Coulter's Dalton. Reed is working on the final painting for his next exhibition when laughter outside his room distracts him. Ever curious, he leaves his work to discover what could possibly be so entertaining to the boys of Windsor house.


**Inspiration for the story hit me at 2:15 AM last night. I stayed up until 4 AM to finish writing it. This is based on CP Coulter's _Dalton_. However, if you haven't kept up to date on her drabbles, this won't make much sense to you. I hope you enjoy it. Please review after reading, as I appreciate any feedback.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee_ nor _Dalton_, therefore, only the hypothetical plot is mine.**

Reed could hear faint giggles, gasps of delight, soft laughter.

He was painting in his room, the door left open in order to let in maximum light and also to keep tabs on what was happening in Windsor. Charlie was out for the day (presumably spending time with Hope) and he had left Blaine in charge.

Blaine wasn't the best at keeping everything under control.

This was why Reed had made sure the door to his room was open. He had a direct line of sight down the hallway. It wouldn't be good to be caught unaware again. He still needed one more piece for his next exhibition, and the twins had ruined the last one. The door had been closed and they had burst in, Nerf guns blasting, the foam bullets hitting Reed and, consequently, the canvas.

He was never going to sit with his back to the door again.

He blocked out the faint noise and concentrated on his latest masterpiece. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. The colors were blending splendidly, the lines were blurred just enough, and there was adequate substance to be considered deep and meaningful.

As he added the last few touches, he thought, yes, this was a painting his mother would approve of. He could just imagine her seeing it for the first time, it hanging on the wall, illuminated by the carefully designed lighting. Everything perfect.

She would gasp, stunned by the mastery demonstrated by his newest piece of art. She would search him out and sweep him into a large hug, bestowing kisses on his rosy cheeks, the blush arising from his pleasure and pride.

He put his brush to his palette, intent on blending the two colors to the exact shade he needed when a loud shout of astonishment startled him. He looked toward the door, wide eyed.

A fit of raucous laughter erupted.

Reed, a very curious person, decided that his painting and supplies would be safe for a few moments. He carefully sat his brush down and walked to the door, taking another quick look at his almost-completed accomplishment. His intense satisfaction gave him the courage to leave the room.

The sounds grew louder as he ventured further down the hallway.

"I can't believe it!" The speaker was incredulous.

"So–" "Isn't it–" "–cute in–" "After all these–" "Adorable!" "Even then–"

The voices overlapped, cut short. The speakers interrupted each other frequently. Reed only caught snippets of sentences, but understood the general feelings of awe and disbelief. Some feeling was causing the laughter that was prevalent during the entire conversation.

He peeked around the corner and saw his friends congregated downstairs, all passing around identical-looking sheets of paper.

Blaine was staring at one, looking dumbfounded.

Kurt was enchanted.

Dwight looked dubious.

Wes, David, and the Tweedles seemed amused. Most of the laughter came from them.

Amused Tweedles was never a good sign, but Reed's curiosity won out over his cautiousness. He descended the stairs carefully, keeping a hand on the banister and looking down at his feet until they hit level ground.

The group in front of Reed didn't notice his sudden appearance; they were too preoccupied by the mysterious papers.

"Hey guys."

Kurt jumped, being closest to Reed. Upon noticing who was standing behind him, Kurt shot Reed a goofy grin. Before he could explain anything, though, Blaine had bounded across the room and grabbed Reed by the shoulders. He was holding one of the papers up to Reed's face, his eyes flitting between the two. Blaine had a look of extreme inspection upon his face. Dwight abruptly materialized next to Blaine. He seemed to be searching for whatever Blaine was seeking also.

"I have some rituals that can verify authenticity."

Blaine waved Dwight away.

"I got this."

He held the paper up to Reed's face for a few more seconds and then swung his arm to place it under the light of the chandelier, positioning himself squarely under the paper.

Reed looked to Kurt, then back to Blaine. He wanted to know what was going on but wasn't sure if it was a good idea to interrupt Blaine's silence.

Wes, David, Evan, and Ethan were still snickering in the background.

Blaine looked back to Reed and dropped his arms, the paper hanging loosely at his side.

"I can't believe this," his indignant statement rung out again.

The four boys behind him collapsed in riotous laughter.

Reed was almost scared to ask.

Kurt held out one of the pieces of paper to him and smiled widely. "You're never going to believe this."

It was a photograph. There were two boys, on opposite sides of the picture. Toys were everywhere. The photographer had even caught some in mid-air.

Reed also immediately noticed that this photograph was from a fashion shoot. He recognized the children's clothes, and even identified some pieces he had worn in his own childhood.

But it was just two kids in a photograph from a shockingly informal shoot for such a well-known designer.

"What… am I supposed to be seeing?"

Kurt rolled his eyes playfully. "Look a little closer, Reed."

All of the boys had fallen silent in anticipation. Kurt, taking pity on Reed, stepped closer to Reed and tapped at the two kids' faces.

Reed's jaw dropped.

Gleeful grins were exchanged among the four mischievous boys currently sitting on the floor.

"It's– it's– I– me– it's–"

"You and Shane," Kurt said gently.

Reed was speechless.

He took in the expressions of utter delight on the young boys' faces. He didn't remember that shoot. He didn't remember the toys, the clothes. The boy. How could he not remember any moment with Shane? Wild, crazy, happy Shane. Lovable Shane.

His Shane.

"Awwwww." A teasing chorus arose from Evan, Ethan, Wes, and David.

Reed's head snapped up and his vision zeroed in on the four. Then he looked at Blaine, Kurt, and Dwight.

His face turned crimson before he could reach the stairs but he kept running, tripping slightly on the transition between the last stair and the second floor but not falling, and so he ran into his room, pushed at his door without looking to see if he actually moved it, and flung himself onto his bed.

He lay there for a few moments before realizing he was still holding the photograph. He sat up and looked around his bedroom. He noticed he had successfully shut his door.

His eyes settled on the canvas sitting in the middle of his side of the room.

He held up the photograph to it.

They were them. They both had them both. The boys, the happiness, the love, the freedom. The feelings, the colors, the transcending of boxes, of labels, of lines.

It was amazing. So many years apart, but they were still the same. So different, but the same. Two, but one.

Reed smiled to himself. Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was meant to be.

His bedroom door burst open and a torrent of Nerf bullets came flying through.

Laughter so similar it blended together was heard. The twins tucked their heads around the corner, into Reed's doorway.

"But of course, dear Dormouse."

"When have we ever thought differently?"

And with identical winks and waves of their weapons they disappeared, the door slamming shut behind them.

Reed surveyed the room for any damage and was pleased to see that the projectiles had not damaged his painting. The worst they had caused was the toppling of his paintbrush onto the white carpet.

Reed felt too content to get up and fix the mess. He fell back onto his bed and stared at the now-precious photograph, both trying desperately to remember the past and easily envisioning the future.

Reed felt more confident than ever in the idea of a relationship with Shane. It if had been a sign he had been looking for, though, he had no further to look than the boundaries of his bedroom.

For where the bright-red-dipped paint brush had landed, a small heart had appeared.


End file.
